A Lesson in Defense
by thecrimsonmonarch
Summary: Maybe they were always destined to be obsessed with each other. [One-shot, Hints of pre-slash HP/TMR, Time-Travel Fix-It]


**Disclaimer**: HP is JK Rowling's. I claim nothing.

* * *

Tom Marvolo Riddle had a lot of interests: Science, Philosophy, Magical Theory, History, Politics, Charms, Transfiguration, Potion Brewing -

But _not _Quidditch. _Never_ Quidditch.

That was why many were surprised when he began frequenting the Quidditch pitch.

The Slytherin prefect would walk to and from the pitch every Monday before breakfast without fail. Whenever someone asked him about his early morning activities, he would simply answer with a nonchalant "I like morning walks."

And he wasn't lying - he _did_ like morning walks.

But he wasn't exactly telling the truth, either.

See, Tom didn't go there for the sake of _exercising_. Oh no, not at all.

What he actually went there for was the _view_.

Now, you might think of something poetic - maybe something along the lines of a lonely young man staring off at the cold, desolate landscape, contemplating the mysteries of the universe, blah, blah, _blah._

Tom did _nothing_ of the sort.

Well...

_Maybe_ a bit. After all, he stared _and_ contemplated - just not _at_ and _about_ the things mentioned above.

Tom was simply curious whether or not a certain pair of legs would look as good wrapped around his waist as they did straddling a broom.

Curiosity was morphing into obsession, and his curiosity was Harry Potter.

...

Professor Potter was a mystery. He appeared at the start of Tom's Fourth Year, applying for the Defense Against the Dark Arts post. Nobody seemed to know him, and he wasn't in the Hogwarts Student records, either. It _could_ be said that he just _popped _out of nowhere, if not for the fact that _popping_ out of nowhere would indicate apparition, and _no_, Harry Potter hadn't apparated. He wasn't in the Ministry's apparition track list (Tom had checked). He had no Birth Certificate, no Gringotts transaction, no Muggle documents, _nothing_. There was not even a _single_ mention of Harry James Potter, verbal or written, that could be found _anywhere_. How he had existed for so long without any trace was just - _supposedly -_ impossible. Even the most excellent criminals would leave more clues behind than Harry Potter.

It was like he _simply existed _at one point.

And that was just the beginning of the puzzle.

The fact that Headmaster Dippet _hired_ him, even gave him the most sought-for teaching position... _Bizarre_ doesn't even cover it. See, Dippet never, _ever_, accepted young applicants before, and Harry Potter was, without a doubt, young. He looked more like a graduating student than a teacher, and many, students and parents alike, had rudely and blatantly questioned whether or not someone so young could handle the job. There were even a few Howlers during the first few days of classes.

It didn't take long for the complaints to pass, though. Harry Potter had proved himself capable - _more_ than capable. In fact, he had become, without contest, everyone's favorite teacher.

_Everyone's._

That also included Tom Riddle.

Tom respected his Professor. He was a great teacher; competent, direct-to-the-point, knowledgeable, and, most of all, _fascinating_.

Tom particularly remembered an instance when a group of Gryffindors had overstepped their boundaries. Professor Potter had only been their teacher for less than a month then, and the leader of the little group had thought they won't get in trouble since the Professor "seems cool enough." While waiting for the class to start, the Gryffindor trio proceeded to prank an unknowing Slytherin boy, and had sent a jinx shuttling towards their target. But before it could reach the boy's turned back, a shield intercepted it. Tom felt the air shift and he glanced back at the door to see Professor Potter step into the classroom. He pointedly stared at the three boys and, without raising his voice, said "Detention. 7 pm, my office."

Everyone was so surprised, not to mention a tad scared, to see their usually carefree Professor act so... _different_, that they failed to notice that his wand wasn't even drawn. Tom noticed, though. Grey eyes flitted over to the teacher's desk where Professor Potter deposited his bag.

A perfect nonverbal and _wandless_ Shield Charm? Harry Potter obviously had secrets. _Big_ secrets.

Interesting.

That was when Tom started paying extra attention to the man.

The Defense Professor was a bundle of contradictions. One moment, he's extremely warm and cheery, the next, he's cold and pensive. He was confident when teaching, yet a bit awkward outside the classroom. He was obviously smart, yet he acted like an idiot. He was attractive enough, yet he chose to hide behind those ugly, round spectacles and that ill-fitting muggle suit. He had intimate knowledge regarding a wide range of subjects (like Defensive magic and, Tom suspected, the Dark Arts) yet he seemed clueless at the social field, appearing oblivious when some of his students, female _and_ male, flirted with him.

Really, Tom could study the man all day long and not be the slightest bit bored.

What Tom didn't understand, though, was why the man had picked a job at Hogwarts. Surely, with his extensive knowledge and obvious experience, he could easily snag a job at the Ministry? Could the Professor only be sticking around this low-paying job as a teacher to build a respectable reputation before officially entering the Wizarding Society? It _was_ possible.

Maybe, after a year, he would move on to better things.

So, young Tom Riddle started talking to his Professor outside class, making use of the limited time to study the curious specimen.

Harry Potter's attitude towards him was different, he had concluded after a couple of interactions. Tom wasn't one to imagine things - he was sure that the Professor acted especially guarded around him. Whereas he easily joked around with the Staff and the other students, he seemed overly aware of the Fourth-Year Slytherin.

Curiouser and curiouser.

The Winter Holidays came, and Tom decided to change tactics. After dropping a few not-so-subtle hints, it would seem that the Professor wasn't as oblivious in the field of flirting as he had once thought. Harry Potter grew even more wary of Tom, even going as far as avoiding him by disillusioning himself outside class.

Tom never had so much _fun_. Professor Potter's irritation and, at times, real, threatening anger, was a constant source of entertainment. He thought it thrilling, being a constant thought in the mind of a powerful wizard.

Their game continued for _months._

Others thought they simply loathed each other. Well... that might actually be the case for the Professor, but most certainly not for Tom.

And Tom would never admit it, but he was a bit disappointed at the probability that the man wouldn't return for next year, thus ending their game.

That was why it was with trepidation that Tom entered the Great Hall on September the first.

But his worrying was for naught, it would seem, as Professor Potter had returned for that term, even additionally taking on the post of the Flying instructor.

Which brings us back to the Quidditch Pitch.

...

"Morning, Professor!"

Tom's head snapped at the direction of the booming voice. A few meters away from him was the Half-giant, Hagrid.

"Morning, Hagrid!" Professor Potter shouted back from mid-air, even loosening one hand from steering the broom to wave in their general direction. His gaze traveled to the side and met Tom's intense stare. The man's shoulders visibly stiffened and Tom smirked. He winked in greeting, knowing it would peeve the man.

Tom estimated that that would occupy the man's thoughts for at least half an hour, so he decided to leave before overdoing it_._ He walked back towards the castle, aware of the pair of eyes glued to his back.

* * *

Tom just finished eating when he caught sight of Professor Potter leaving the Great Hall. He stood up and steered away from the crowd, following the familiar back. Once he was outside the doors and away from the human traffic, he sidled beside Harry, matching the man's pace.

"Good day, is it not?" Tom lightly asked.

"It would be better if a certain pain in the arse would leave me be." The man pointedly paused. "That's you, Riddle, in case your skin's too thick to detect insults."

"Ah, I told you to call me Tom, Harry. May I call you Harry?"

"No, thank you, _Riddle_. And for the umpteenth time,_ you may not_."

"But 'Professor Potter' is a mouthful."

"Call me 'sir,' then."

"Oh? Interesting," Tom drawled, arching a brow. "Are you one of those people who get off at being the more dominant character, _sir_?"

Harry's ears reddened.

"Detention, Riddle-"

"Your office, sir?" Tom asked in a silky voice, making the inquiry sound far from innocent.

Harry stopped walking and stood there stupidly, gaping like a fish.

"Or would you prefer somewhere else? The Forbidden Forest, perhaps?"

"Riddle, you-"

"We might dirty our robes, but I know a creek where we could... clean up afterwards."

"I- you-" Harry closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Forget about detention!" He hissed before turning around and walking briskly away.

Tom easily followed in stride, taking advantage of his long legs.

"But I've been a _very_ bad boy, sir."

Harry quickened his pace, but his lips remained pursed. Tom matched Harry's speed.

"And bad boys _deserve _to be punished. I suggest," he leaned down a bit, "a spanking?" he breathed right beside Harry's ear.

"Great Merlin, Riddle. Shut up!" Harry spluttered, at the same time covering both ears with his hands and turning away from Tom. His face was now completely red. "My job be damned, if you take one more step towards me, I swear I'll hex you into oblivion!"

"My, my, the Professor's a sadist," Tom commented with mock awe, clapping his hands together.

Harry finally drew his wand.

"I didn't take a step closer, sir," Tom said defensively.

The Professor narrowed his eyes. With his wand still drawn, he slowly backed away, only turning his back when Tom didn't seem to make any move to follow him.

Tom watched the man's retreating back, knowing there was room for at least one more jibe.

"A lesson in Defense, my dear Professor," he called out, "never turn your back on me! You just might find an unexpected attack from behi- " suddenly, Tom lost his voice, and he _just knew_ it was Harry who had cast the _Silencio _on him.

The Professor's figure disappeared around the corner, and Tom listened as the sound of footsteps grew fainter and fainter before completely vanishing, leaving an amused and silent Tom alone in a similarly silent corridor.

That... went extremely well. He didn't even get the middle finger today. Tom smiled.

_Progress_.

He returned to the Slytherin dormitory with a smirk on his face, making his housemates wonder if he had finally snapped and killed someone.


End file.
